Abandoned
by GeorgeGeorge
Summary: The Dursleys leave for vacation, and not knowing here to put six-year-old-Harry, they leave him on a street corner in Ottery St. Catchpole for three weeks. What will become of this? H/G friendship. T for child abuse
1. Alone

**My little cousin writes this story. She just turned twelve not even a week ago. No flames, please. She'll be reading the comments. Harry is six.**

Harry was absolutely terrified. The Dursleys were going on summer vacation in a few days, and since they weren't going to take him with them, they were discussing where to put him. Each option had been repeated _at least_ twice by now. Half of the options scared the living daylights out of him.

"Marge's house?" asked Aunt Petunia.

"She's coming with us, dear. What about Mrs. Figg?" said Uncle Vernon.

"I told you already, Mrs. Figg is on vacation. She can't take the boy," Aunt Petunia told him.

"We ruddy well can't take him with us!"

"What about Colonel Fubster? He took him once."

"Marge told me that he had a car accident, Petunia. He's recovering."

"I can't think of anywhere else to put him."

"How about we just drop him off at a street corner?"

"That seems a bit extreme, Vernon. If the neighbors caught wind of this, who knows what would happen to our reputation?"

"Let's keep this quiet, then."

"What about that letter? That freak-show man would kill us if he died!"

"How about we put the boy in a low crime-rate town, in a respectable neighborhood? We'll hide that freak scar of his with make-up, give him a good lie to tell, and no one will find out."

"How can we trust the boy to lie? Not all six-year-olds are as smart as our Dudders. Kids at that age are just too stupid to know how to lie properly."

"He'll lie if he knows what's best for him."

"Okay, where is that little freak?"

Harry scampered from the keyhole into his cupboard at Aunt Petunia's words. He flung himself on his mattress, and pretended to read a book from the shelf in Dudley's second bedroom.

15 minutes later…

Tap, Tap, Tap. Aunt Petunia opened the cupboard door.

"As you know, your uncle, cousin, and I are going on vacation. We've finally decided on where to put you. We are going to drop you off in a nice little suburb called Ottery St. Catchpole. You can't let people know who you are, and why you are there, so Vernon has prepared a lie for you. Got it?"

He nodded.

"Good. Now, Vernon's going to give you a lie to tell. He's in the kitchen."

Harry scurried off into the kitchen to see what to do. Harry didn't know what "lie" meat, but Uncle Vernon always said he was a liar before he put him in his cupboard, so he assumed it was pad. He told himself, no matter what his uncle said, he wasn't going to lie.

"Now, listen here, boy. Your name is now Harry Winters," his uncle said, "You got separated at the petrol station from your aunt and uncle, and you don't know where you are. We will come back to get you in about three weeks. Got it?"

Harry nodded. He wouldn't tell people the fake last name, or his real last name either, for Harry only knew his first name. He would tell the truth about everything, and hope someone would take him in. Harry didn't know how old he was, but he guessed five, so that is what he would tell people.

Wednesday and Thursday had passed. Now, on Friday, July 25th, The Dursleys were leaving for their vacation. And six-year-old Harry Potter (with his forehead make-upped by Aunt Petunia) was about to be left on a random street corner in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Harry's mind blacked out in thoughts of what could go wrong, until…

"Boy, get out!"

Harry obeyed, terrified. The Dursleys left.

Harry had never felt so alone in his life until he was standing on the pavement on 7:43 P.M, Friday, 7/25/86.

And, completely and utterly alone, he began to cry.


	2. Tears

**Hello, it's me again. Remember, Harry is six, and Ginny five. They're innocent children. They will do things adults wouldn't do as quickly.**

_(Ginny's POV)_

Ginny Weasley was playing outside after dinner. She often did this on Fridays, because her daddy always came home at 8:30 on Fridays. She would be going inside to wait for him in about ten minutes. She had on her raincoat and boots because the rain was rather cold.

Ginny was walking around her street when she heard a familiar sound, one of a little boy trying to muffle his tears.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked the boy, who looked around her age, only he was a bit smaller.

"M-m-my aunt and-d Uncle, they are v-vewy mean to me, they lepted m-me here,"* the boy replied shakily through tears. When he opened his mouth, Ginny saw he had about eight missing teeth.

"On purpose?" Ginny asked horror-struck.

The boy nodded. He was shivering from the rain. He must have been especially freezing, for he was only wearing oversized shorts and a T-shirt.

"What's your name?" Ginny asked.

"Haw-wy," the boy replied.

"Your last name?" she asked.

"I dunno. Th-th-they never t-told me, "the boy, apparently Harry, said.

Ginny's heart went out to the poor boy. "You look cold. I'll take you to my house."

Harry nodded as Ginny took his hand and practically dragged him to her house.

Ginny walked through the door, Harry in tow, and waited for her mum to call for her.

"Ginny, is that you? Why aren't you outside with the boys? It's only 8:20," her mother said as she walked into the foyer, "Who is this young man? Is he one of your friends?" Her mother asked. "I thought I told you to make friends that are _girls_ this time."

"This is Harry. I found him on the street, Mum, he was all alone," Ginny defended "His aunt and uncle left him there. On purpose!"

(Mrs. Weasley's POV)

Molly Weasley was preparing plate for her husband, Arthur, when he got home in a few minutes time. She heard the door open, and since the boys were playing Quidditch (Percy was reading in his room), she could safely assume it was Ginny.

"Ginny, is that you? Why aren't you outside with the boys? It's only 8:20," Mrs. Weasley asked.

It was at that moment when Mrs. Weasley realized her daughter was not alone. There was a bedraggled little boy with black hair, creepy green eyes, and round-rimmed glasses wearing nothing but a T-shirt and shorts much too big for him(which was odd, as it was raining). He stood there, dripping, soaked to the skin. He looked no older than five.

"Who is this young man? Is he one of your friends?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "I thought I told you to make friends that are _girls_ this time."

It had always bothered Molly Weasley that her daughter refused to behave like a little girl should. She loathed pink, dressing up, tea parties, skirts, haircuts, the lot of it. But, what bothered her the most was that her best friends were her brother, Neville Longbottom, and various Muggle boys. She just didn't care for other girls.

Then, her little girl sad something that snapped her heart in half:

"This is Harry. I found him on the street, Mum, he was all alone, and" the little girl said defensively, "His aunt and uncle left him there. On purpose!"

Mrs. Weasley's first reaction was denial:_ that isn't true; she must have misinterpreted him._

When the little boy nodded his head slightly, Mrs. Weasley went in to full-force mother-mode.

"Oh, you poor boy! I must make you a plate of something. Do you like soup?"

The little boy nodded.

Mrs. Weasley practically dragged Harry as Ginny mouthed "Sorry"

*'lepted' is intentional; Harry has 8 missing teeth/ can't pronounce r-l's

**I need plot ideas. My brian is wrapped up in school, you get a lot of homework in middle school, and softball/baseball, and I haven't had proper time to think. Tell me what you want in reviews.**

**Questions **

**1. I want to put Harry in Ginny's grade because he doesn't know how old he is. Is that okay?**

**2. (Follow-up to 1) I'm not good at OC's. If you chose yes for #1, make up an OC. I will select the ones I want.**

**3. Harry and Ginny won't end up as Gryffindors. They will be either Slytherin or Ravenclaw. Which one?**

**4. I don't like to bash anyone. Who do you want in good light?**

**5. Should Harry be abused physically?**


	3. Broken

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while. My cousin is in seventh grade. They've piled on homework like crazy.**

_(Harry POV)_

Harry woke up early that morning. In fact, the sun was currently peaking over the horizon. He kept his eyes closed. He'd had a wonderful dream: It was after the Dursleys' dropped him off; a girl (whose name was Ginny, he remembered) rescued him and brought him to her house. A nice lady, her mother, made him soup and got him some maroon pajamas that were his size. She said were "Ronnie's a couple years back". He'd been put in a soft bed in a real room (not his cupboard), and fallen asleep.

Harry was waiting for the usual tap-tap-tap on the door from Aunt Petunia, but instead heard a muffled sneeze. He put his glasses on, and peered about the room. In a room? Harry was in a room. That surprised him. What came as a bigger surprise was that Harry was not alone; there was a girl who looked exactly like the girl from his dream sleeping in a twin bed across the room from him.

He watched her for a while, but then decided it was prudent to get up out of bed. Harry got up, made the bed and went down the stairs. When he got to the bottom he heard what he assumed wasthe middle of a heated argument.

"-a Muggle, no less!" a male voice scolded.

"I wasn't about to put him back on the street!" a woman replied angrily, "It was raining! He couldn't be much older than Ginny, Arthur!"

"What about the Statute of Secrecy? The Ministry won't be glad to hear a Muggle knows about our world."

Harry wondered what a Muggle was.

"I haven't told him anything about us. I'll just drop him off at the Muggle Social Services; he won't know a thi-"

Harry sneezed. There was total silence in the room beside him. The door opened, and Harry did his best to appear innocent.

A man stood in front of him. The man's name was Arthur, judging from the argument. The man named Arthur had a mixed expression of anxiety and curiosity. The nice lady was already gone.

The man named Arthur began, "Hello there, son. I'm Mr. Weasley. What's your name?"

"Harry," Harry told him.

"Harry who?"

"I dunno. Aunt Petunia never told me my last name."

The man looked at him sadly. "What's Aunt Petunia's last name?"

"Durs-ey"

The man appeared as though he wasn't going to respond. Harry gathered up all his courage to ask a question.

"Sir, what's a Muggle?"

The man named Arthur looked startled. "Never mind that, Harry. Where do your aunt and uncle live?"

Harry filled with panic. "You aren't gonna send me back, are you? Pwease don't! Uncle Vernon'll kill me if I'm back!" His voice, quiet at first, rose to a scream by the end.

It was at that moment when something strange happened. It was almost freakish. A flash of golden light erupted from Harry, knocking the man named Arthur over. Harry began to cry, afraid of being beaten by this man. Freaks deserved punishment. Uncle Vernon had told him so.

_(Mr. Weasley POV)_

Arthur Weasley had just had one of the greatest shocks of his life.

He'd been arguing with his wife over the fact that she had brought a Muggle into their highly magical home, when he heard a soft, childish sneeze. He opened the door, and, to his surprise, their stood a boy who was absolutely tiny. He was wearing Ron's pajamas from when he was four. Yet, the boy's face told him he was older, perhaps five or six.

He approached this very small boy cautiously. He decided it was okay for him to speak. "Hello there, son. I'm Mr. Weasley. What's your name?"

"Haw-wy," Harry told him, in a lisp, probably caused by his many missing teeth.

"Harry who?" Arthur wanted to see if he recognized the last name.

"I dunno. Aunt Petunia never told me my last name."

Arthur felt a pang of pity for this boy. "What's Aunt Petunia's last name?"

"Dursley."

The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place exactly where he'd heard it before.

"Sir, what's a Muggle?"

Arthur was rather startled by this question. He wondered how much of his conversation the boy had heard. "Never mind that, Harry. Where do your aunt and uncle live?"

The little boy's face showed utter terror "You aren't gonna send me back, are you?" Please don't! Uncle Vernon'll kill me ip I'm back!" His voice, quiet at first, rose to a scream by the end.

At that moment, Arthur saw what a bout of accidental magic was; undoubtedly, golden light erupted from the boy, thrusting both the boy and himself backwards.

When he got up, he saw Harry cowering in the corner in the fetal position. He lifted his head slightly, looking expectantly at Arthur's hands. The boy was crying silent tears.

"You can do it now," the boy told him.

Arthur felt confused, "Do what?"

"Punif me. I did some-ping bad."

"What did you do?" Arthur asked gently.

"I did some-ping fweaky," the boy responded, as though it were obvious.

"You didn't do anything wrong!" Arthur reassured the little boy, "And what exactly do you mean by _punish_ you?"

"Do what Uncle Vernon does."

"What exactly did Uncle Vernon do to you?"

"He hitted me, He locked me in my cupboard wif-out food, he made me do all of chores, or when he got wi-wy mad he'd take his bewt and…"

Arthur truly looked at this boy. Straight into his eyes. And he knew that this boy was broken.


	4. Skip over this

**I know you're not supposed to this…**

**My little cousin is adamant about writing a story outline before writing the rest. Thus, I need reviews to help her on where to take her story. You don't have to review again or before this chapter. She's a stubborn little girl; she's not going to change her mind. She e-mailed me this:**

"_I need to write an outline before I keep on righting. Mr. Slomsky says you should'nt even start righting a story before righting onw. Detailed plot avents, charcahters, painrgs, the whole shebang. I can't ask Kinsey or my friends cause they'll make fun of me. Can you help with the outline at Grandma's during Thanksgving?_

_-Rose"_

**This story may be discontinued if we can't resolve this. Though, it may just be put on a long hiatus. It'll be shorter the more reviews she gets.**

**So, I need answers to the following questions:**

**1. Slytherin or Ravenclaw? (also can answer poll on my profile)**

**2. Can you give me an OC idea?**

**3. What is the abuse level you are comfortable with?**

**4. Which pairings do you hope to see?**

**5. Are you okay with slash?(for you Christians out there)**

**6. Are you okay with DM/LL, RW/HG, H/G, and NL/HA? (tell me which ones you dislike)**

**7. Who do you want to be bashed? Nobody, Dumbledore, Malfoys, Gryffindors, etc.?**

**We welcome anonymous reviewers. They are just as important as signed reviewers.**

**By the way, in my poll, Slytherin is winning by two votes.**


	5. Abused

_**A/N My cousin wrote responses to the anonymous reviewers out there:**_

_Peggy: Thank you for your advice. I like your suggestions. The OC idea was very helpful and I thank you for being the first (and only) one to answer my plea for OC's_

_Guest: Thank you. I'm open to suggestions on where I take this_

_Guest: Thank you. I was hoping to portray a believable abused six-year-old. _

_Guest: I won't bash Ron, I promise._

_Yaya: Sorry, not going to back down on HG/RW._

_Mr. & Mrs. Weasley: 34:__** Bill: 15 **__Charlie: 13 __**Percy: 9 **__the Twins: 8 __**Ron: 6 Harry: 5 **__Ginny: 4_

_Birthdays__**: Mr. Weasley: February 6**__ Mrs. Weasley: October 30 __**Bill: November 29**__ Charlie: December 12 __**Percy: August 22**__ the Twins: April 1 __**Ron: March 1 **__Harry: July 22 __**Ginny: August 11**_

_We got all the birthdays& years from HP Lexicon excluding age of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. We used logic to decide that._

_**By the way, anyone suggesting that a twelve-year-old, not even five feet tall, would write something like sexual abuse is crazy.**_

_**Warning: there will be swearing in this chapter (hence the rating turning T). I will tell you when swearing starts and ends if you have a problem with it.**_

_**In Harry's POV, his words sound normal to him.**_

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, I usually have too much homework(pre-algebra sucks), but I was sick and thought, "Well, I'm bored!"**

_(Harry POV)_

The twenty-sixth of July, 1986 had been the best day in Harry's young life: He had eaten _dinner_ (He couldn't remember the last time that had happened), He'd slept in a real room, He found out that being a freak was _good,_ and had made his second friend. And on top of it all, he found people who _actually_ liked him, not pretending to on a dare, but _actually_ liked him. It was _wonderful._

The day had begun with his unfortunate display of freakishness… no, accidental magic. Harry supposed it was rather fortunate he had done it, or he'd have been dropped off at Social Services.

Well, anyway, after the incident with the magic, he and Mr. Weasley discussed the Dursleys' treatment of him. The drama had begun with two words:

"Punish me"

It all escalated from there.

Mr. Weasley asked him what he meant by 'punish me'. Harry gathered up all his courage, and finally did the thing he had wanted to do since Raymond moved; he told someone else the truth about Uncle Vernon.

After he told him, Harry saw pity in his eyes, the same pity Raymond showed when Harry told him. How he missed Raymond, the tall dark-skinned boy who lived next to Mrs. Figg. He was Harry's only friend in Little Whinging. The other kids called him "freak", too. Harry told Raymond about what Uncle Vernon did to him, but his mother believed that he was messing with her son, like all the other kids did. Harry felt devastated when Raymond moved. Harry had forgotten where he had moved to. Ottertown? Otterville? St. Otterville? It was Otter-something.

Well, apparently to Mr. Weasley, Uncle Vernon was a very bad man. At least according to his widening eyes and string of swears.

_**Swearing start:**_

"That son of a bitch! That _fucking_ bastard! Anyone who does that _shit_ to fucking _child_ deserves to rot in hell!"

"Daddy, what does shit mean?" questioned a small voice from the doorway. It was Ginny. Mr. Weasley looked properly abashed that he had said those words in front his five-year-old daughter. He opened and closed his mouth, trying to explain.

But she wasn't alone. There were three boys behind her. The two shorter boys (identical in every respect) looked at Mr. Weasley with a mixture of shock and awe. The tallest boy had a face of utter disgust. Ginny and these boys all had bright red hair and freckles.

"Yeah, Dad, what _does_ shit mean?" asked one of the boys, grinning.

"Yeah, and bitch?" asked another boy, seemingly identical to the first.

"We've never—"

"Heard these—"

"Words before," they finished together. It was quite obvious to Harry that these boys _had_ heard the words before.

_**Swearing end**_

The tallest boy looked at them as one looks at gum on their shoes.

"Dad, it isn't right to say those kinds of words in front of Ginny, or that boy. Who is that boy?" the tallest boy ended by pointing at Harry.

"Uh, boys, this is Harry. He's one of Ginny's friends. He spent the night," Mr. Weasley said, "Harry, these are my sons: Fred, George and Percy."

The tallest boy, Percy, reached out. Harry knew he wasn't trying to hit him because Ginny was mouthing "handshake." He shook Percy's hand on his tippy-toes (otherwise he would not reach).

"Ginny, go back to your room. Percy, get your mother," Mr. Weasley commanded, "I need to talk to her. _Alone_." For some reason, he glared at Fred and George, who whistled innocently.

"Harry, go play with Ginny. Boys, outside."

"Yes, sir!" Harry said, and scampered up the stairs to Ginny.

_Mr. Weasley's POV_

Arthur Weasley felt flabbergasted. The boy—Harry—was magical! The abused little boy—he could stay! Arthur really liked that idea. He loved Bill and Charlie and Percy and the twins, but he really enjoyed little children. And what's another son when you already have six?

The boy could be friends with little Ginny. All of his sons seemed to have each other, but Ginny was, well—a girl. She was easily left out. And perhaps this boy could convince dear Molly to enroll Ginny and Harry—perhaps Ron and the twins—into magical preschool like he'd always wanted! Yes, that would be it.

_Later…_

"Molly dear, would you come over? I'd like to talk with you," Mr. Weasley said sweetly.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Weasley answered exasperated, but not unkindly.

"W-what? I d-don't want _anything_," he half-heartedly defended.

"I know when you want something, Arthur. And judging by your tone, it's something big."

"Well… yes, I do want something, dear."

"Then spit it out!"

"I want to… keep the boy."

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you, Arthur."

"I'd like to keep the boy."

"You'd like to _what_?"

"Keep him, Molly. He's alone and terrified. He needs a family. And we have one."

"His aunt and uncle are his family. They feed him, clothe him, and love him, right?"

"You see how thin he is! He is not _fed_. You see his _so-called_ clothes. And you see that look in his eyes. Those are _not_ the eyes of a child that is loved. You should have seen his reaction when I—"

"When you what? When you said something about magic? Is that it? To a Muggle?"

"When I suggested taking him back there! He screamed in a terrified voice that only can come from abused children. Also, I didn't tell him anything. It wouldn't matter if I did. He's no Muggle!"

"He's not?" she answered in a small voice.

"No his magic exploded when I suggested he go back to his relatives."

"Really? That bad?"

"Yes. He told me his uncle beat and starved him."

"That's awful."

"Yes, it is."

He left her to ponder in silence

**If anyone would like the position of my plotline advisor/beta reader, PM me.**


	6. Meanwhile

_Meanwhile…_

_(Dudley POV)_

Dudley Dursley felt conflicted. He just didn't understand why his father was so cruel to his cousin. Sure, he was a freak, but _abandoning _him on the street goes a bit beyond your average cruelties.

On the freak matter, what made him a freak? Why is he a freak, but not him? Their mothers were sisters. How could one be a freak, but not the other? Was he part-freak?

And he wondered… What was it that his father did in the basement? He could hear them screaming… his mother… Harry. Oh, how he hated Harry's screams. They shook him to the core. they sounded more like a horrible, twisted whistle than a terrified child.

To tell the truth, his father terrified Dudley. He was huge—nearly 340 pounds. The man could eat Harry—maybe even him—in one sitting. Not only was Vernon Dursley big; he was quite strong. He was honestly afraid that if he spoke up against his father, he would be beaten. He was fairly certain his father beat Harry. He also had an unsettling feeling about the relationship between his parents. His mother—his Mummy—seemed so_ afraid_. She acted as though she had no power.

Dudley might have been just six years old, but—no, he wasn't stupid. He could read. He could write, add and subtract, count money, the likes. But his father—he wouldn't be a geek. His father hated geeks—and by extension—so did he.

But, he knew this façade might get to him someday. His pretending might change into reality. His father expected him to watch television, despite the research suggesting he do otherwise.

His physique needed improvement also—he weighed almost seventy pounds. Seventy pounds are a lot more when you're a four-foot-two six-year-old. He'd wanted to try tennis, but his father said that was a "sissy sport", and he dropped the matter.

Dudley also knew what he did to the other kids was wrong… He knew he should stop. He hadn't right out beat up anyone—but he had kicked a few boys and made a couple of girls cry. He'd deemed it harmless.

But the whole thing with Harry changed everything. He couldn't deny it anymore; his father was evil. His judgment was useless—no, harmful. He hurt Harry, possibly his mother (he suspected), and might someday hurt him. His father was a menace to society and he would not trust the man with his decisions.

He would not listen to his father, no sir. He would be his own person—play tennis, read, do his homework, help around the house (his father argued that only _girls_ do that), and make quality friends. Dudley Dursley was going to turn his life around.


	7. All of the difference

**This is set a few days afterwards.**

_(Harry POV)_

"And the finnix (phoenix) burns up-ped and turns into ashes!" the little girl babbled animatedly. She made drastic gestures that most adults could not make sense of.

"It _dies_? Juf wike 'at" the even smaller boy gasped. He'd been enraptured by her stories of magical creatures, though some rather frightened him.

"No, silly," the girl giggled. "The finnix's ashes make a baby finnix that's all crinkly and tiny and stuff."

"'ow does it do dat?"

"I dunno, Harry. They're just like that."

"I'w (I'll) ask your daddy when 'e come 'ome."

"Daddy'll know. He always does."

The children nodded in agreement.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked Ginny.

"D'you wanna go swimmin' in the pond?"

"Tiw dinna-time?"

"Uh-huh. I'll need my bathing suit. You can wear the one you wore last time."

"Your bwuh-duh's owd one?"

"Yeah, the green one."

"I wike 'at one. Is we aw'owed? 'Tis o-most seben."

"I knows it's 'most seven. Just for an hour, please?"

Ginny looked at her friend with the most pleading smile she could muster. Harry could not resist any longer.

"Fine."

The children went off to fetch the needed garments. Their small faces flushed with the excitement known by children and adults alike; the excitement obtained from new friends. It was a scene of utmost purity and innocence; one of very few in young Harry's so-far miserable life.

This happiness was completely foreign to the youngster. Though his infancy was better than most children in hiding, Harry had no clue of the love his parents bestowed upon him. The boy's vile uncle had filled his head with horrible stories of a lousy drunkard and a shameful prostitute birthing a dirty, worthless freak of a boy.

The child was putting that all behind him; that and every other disgusting and depraved thing the bastard ever did to him. Harry was finally allowed a childhood and he damned well better enjoy it.

Once he got into Ginny's room, she opened up her disastrous closet. Her mother never checked in there. Thus, it was a myriad of dirty clothes, stuffed toys, kids' books, and other playthings she didn't have time to put away correctly before her mother checked the chore lists.

Within the mess, Ginny was able to find her favorite swimsuit and Ron's old, green swimming trunks. They were easy to find because the children had swam in the early morning. Both suits were still slightly damp, but Harry was getting wet soon anyway.

"Ginny?!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

"Yes, Mummy?" she called back.

"It's an hour un…" the rest of her sentence was indistinguishable due to a loud bang from the twins' room.

"FRED! GEORGE! _SHUT UP!" _Mrs. Weasley yelled. Harry flinched at those words, overcome by brutal memories of Uncle.

**(CHILD ABUSE SCENE)**

"_BO-OY!" Uncle yelled from his room, "Stop that whimpering, you little coward!"_

_Harry was scared. He knew Uncle would come downstairs if he made another peep. He'd been having an awful dream—one of the man himself—that had shaken him to the bone. He must've been loud if Uncle could hear him._

"_Finally shut your big mouth, eh, little bastard," Uncle half-yelled in a slightly amused voice. _

_Harry was so relieved. It was over, all well. He sighed very quietly. Then he did something terrible—he sneezed._

"_I told you to SHUT UP!"_

_Uncle Vernon came down the stairs and slammed his cupboard open. Harry could barely breathe for anticipation._

_Uncle laughed. A deep, chuckling, sinister chuckle Harry never wanted to hear ever again. The sadistic laugh told him he was in for a spell in the basement, where Uncle thought Dudley couldn't hear him scream._

_Uncle hurled Harry to rest on his beefy shoulder, heading for that big, white door. Harry was dreading what would happen when he reached the cold floor—no carpet to cushion his certain plunge._

_As he had expected, Uncle threw him onto the floor, breaking the tiny lenses he wore on his face. The glass miraculously did not cut his eyes, but made almost every other part of his face bleed. He tried to muffle his tears, but it was of no use._

"_You better stop crying, or I'll give you something worth crying about"_

_Harry tried, but to no avail. The tears got louder and louder._

"_SHUT UP!" he roared. He began punching Harry, repeating the sentiment every punch._

**(END CHILD ABUSE SCENE)**

'_Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!' _the words echoed through Harry's brain.

"Harry?" a soft, quivering voice interrupted his mental torture.

Harry's eyes came into focus. He was under the bed.

_How odd. I don't remember going underneath the bed, _Harry thought as he closed his eyes once more.

But, he was. He was under the bed, shaking. He opened eyes again. He saw Ginny staring at him from a rift in the sheets.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she asked him pleadingly. Her soft brown eyes were surprisingly vivid with fear.

"Nuffink. What 'appened?" Harry questioned, unnerved by her concern.

"M-mu-mum-mummy was—she was, um, yelling, and you-y-you just _c-collapsed._" She _trembled_, visibly shaken. "And-and you were whimperin' and shakin' and you crawled under the bed. Looked so scared, I think you… you…" She drifted off, blushing.

"What? You fink I did what?" he asked in earnest.

"I think…" she started out. "I think you… you…_ wetted your pants." _

Harry turned crimson. He wet himself. Only freaky little crybabies wet themselves, Uncle told him so. Only dirty bastard freaks wet themselves. He was a dirty freak; he knew it, everyone did: except the Weasleys. He'd have to tell them that.

"I'm duh-ty. A duh-ty, duh-ty fweak. I don't des-uhve this. Put me back or I'w contaminate you all. I'm just a bud-den. Put me back," he told her in a shrill, crushed voice. The words broke his heart, even though he knew they were true. Ginny hadn't known that; she might have kept him if he hadn't told her.

But Harry knew this wasn't true. She would have found out; everyone did. Everyone who had ever been nice to him stopped, whether intentionally or not.

Aunt Petunia was very kind to him up until last year; it was almost as if she _loved_ him. But now, all she ever did was look fearfully at Uncle, and then berate him for how poorly he had done his chores. Though, sometimes, when Uncle wasn't around, she'd let him sit on the couch instead of doing his chores. Sometimes she even gave him a cookie. She was a mystery. Sometimes, she looked bitter and hated him. Sometimes she was kind and loving, like a mother. But she was always fearful. Uncle made sure of that.

Dudley was once kind. Rather like a dog, he was sweet, loyal, but craved approval. He began listening to his father, hoping to earn his love. He'd wanted to play tennis, Harry remembered, but his father wouldn't let him. The same thing happened with reading; Dudley had loved to, but his father moved the books to his second bedroom, above his reach. Uncle didn't want a "posh" for a son. It broke Harry's heart to see the innocent, round-faced Dudley being turned into a monster by the man he should trust most.

There were neighbor children, of course. Max, a boy on Magnolia Crescent, had played with him for about a week or so when his mother asked Uncle if Harry could have a sleepover with Max. So was the end of that friendship.

There was also a tall girl called Cynthia. She taught him how to braid hair and other "girly" things. But, she caught a glimpse of his scars and told her mother. Uncle convinced Mrs. Bryant that Harry drew the scars on himself with makeup searching for attention. Uncle was livid; He took him to the basement for a terrible punishment. That was the night he lost his teeth.

But the friend he missed most was Raymond; Sweet, lovable Raymond. Raymond was, despite being four years older than he, far more innocent than he ever was. All criticisms, all insults, all hatred just bounced off him.

Even if it affected him, Vernon couldn't pick on Raymond without seeming like the worst person to ever walk the earth. A grown man mocking a child is not a good man, no, but a grown man mocking an autistic child, an absolutely defenseless child, is despicable.

While others pitied Raymond for his debilitating condition, Harry envied him. He was innocent, free of hatred, free of bitterness, free of nasty thoughts. In other words, he was free of the guilt Harry had for being a terrible person. He was also free of the hurt the insults brought. He didn't understand "retarded" as Harry understood "freak". He didn't know, and because of that, he was free.

He and Raymond were once best friends—brothers in all but blood. He'd been his big brother, despite the fact that Raymond was both four years older than him, a foot-and-a-half taller than him, and three times his weight. He'd looked after him, told him nice stories (usually made-up), hugged him, wrestled with him, and altogether just loved him. Raymond needed that.

He trusted Raymond beyond anything. He told him _everything_. And it wasn't like he was some thirteen-year-old girl who told her "BFF" about her crushes; his _everything_ was important. His _everything _would probably put Uncle in prison. But, Mrs. Wilson thought he was like the rest of the boys; she thought he was taking advantage of his gullibility, mocking his autism. She wouldn't believe that Harry's secrets were true.

Harry was still allowed his friend after that. Mr. Wilson was never told why Mrs. Wilson mistrusted Harry, and kept him around. But then, seven months ago, Raymond's father, a Ford engineer, transferred to a little town in Devon (He couldn't remember the name; it was Otter Flagpole or something.) He hadn't seen him since.

"You-you're-you're not _that_ dirty." Her uncertain voice brought him out of his reverie. "And I d-d-don't think you-you're a f-f-freak. I think you're _good_. Not a burden or a comtaninate, whatever that means, but _good _n-n-n' _nice_. Ev'ryone makes mistakes. My daddy'll fix you right up."

Harry didn't know _what_ he was feeling, but it felt nice. He was _good_. Only Mr. Wilson had ever called him that. But Ginny sounded more genuine, more real. She wasn't some grown-up trying to boost the confidence of his son's friend. She was a friend saying what she actually felt. That made all the difference.


End file.
